


Let's Play Murder!

by merelypassingtime



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: But with none of actual characters, Dialogue-Only, F/F, Full of Sherlock canon and show references, Murder Mystery, whodunit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 12:19:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14308488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelypassingtime/pseuds/merelypassingtime
Summary: A murder mystery set at 221B Con, written as a play in three parts. Full of jokes and canon references but not actually featuring any version of the primary characters.





	Let's Play Murder!

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this to be performed at the 2018 221B Con. That fell through, do a bit to injury and mostly to my own overwhelmed shyness. I hope you all still enjoy it.  
> Thanks so much to iwantthatbelstaffanditsoccupant and butterflygrl62 for being willing to be a part of Let’s with me. And, as ever, all the thanks in the world to my lovely, lovely beta no-reason-at-all, who cut this piece nearly in half just by correcting my inability to use contractions. :”)

Witness walks up to the body, already lying across a table.

Witness: Excuse me, ma’am. Are you okay? (Shakes shoulder, victim flops about, takes pulse) Oh no! She’s dead! There’s been a murder! Help, Police!  
Jones (Making a grand entrance and striking a superhero pose): Did someone call for the police?  
Witness: Yes, thank goodness!  
Jones: No, thank me, Athelney Jones: Star Detective!  
Witness: I’m so glad you are here. This woman has been murdered!  
Jones (look nervous): Oh, wait! Murder? Are you sure?  
Witness: Well, I guess I am not sure it is murder, but I am sure that she’s dead.  
Jones: She might be resting.  
Witness. No she isn’t. I took her pulse. This woman has ceased to be.  
Jones: What if she’s just stunned?  
Witness: She’s not- (stops, looks around the room) I don’t suppose there are any other police here I can talk to?  
Jones: Not yet. I just happened to be walking past on my way to the pool when you called for the police.  
Witness: That explains the swimsuit. Frankly, I was a bit too scared to ask. Don’t you think the water wings are a bit much.  
Jones: You can drown in just an inch of water.  
Witness: Well, I bet you could. You know, I’m willing to wait for the real cops.  
Jones: Hey! I am a real cop!  
Witness (sceptical look)  
Jones: What? I am. Okay, okay, fine. So maybe murder is a little out of my division. I usually only handle complaining neighbors and lost pets. (sounding hopeful) I don’t suppose you’ll want to file a complaint against this woman for being dead?  
Witness: What would be the point of that?  
Jones: It might make you feel better.  
Witness: No.  
Jones: Or do you need me to find any lost, fluffy animals, then?  
(Witness rolls eyes)  
Jones (sounding cross): Alright. Guess I’ll just have to solve the murder instead…  
Witness: Oh, the burdens of being a Star Detective.  
Jones (glumly): I know, right. (looking more cheerful) Although, I bet if I do solve this they’ll let me out of the complaints department and into major crimes!  
Witness (pinching bridge of nose): Seems like that would be a major crime.  
Jones: Great! Let’s blow this case wide open! (turns back towards victim looking excited, then crestfallen) Oh, yeah. I’ve no idea where to start. (scratches chin) If only there was a group of consulting detectives around here to help me…  
Witness: Well, you are at a Sherlock Holmes Convention.  
Jones: Am I? Wow, that is very handy! I bet all these people know all sorts of clever ways to get away with murder… Not that I am saying they should or anything… (clears throat, turns to the audience) So, what do you say? Will you guys help me catch a murderer?  
(pause and hope for applause, I am guessing it will be a bit sporadic)  
Jones: Geesh, that didn’t sound very enthusiastic. I guess you aren’t that interested in solving crimes… Just here for all the gay romance. Maybe I should go to the Agatha Christie Convention and get some help, since all you Holmes fans don’t think you can cut it…  
Witness: No!  
Jones: Okay, then again, are you willing to help me?  
(and we hope for the best again applause-wise)  
Jones: Great! Great! So, what should I do first?  
(long pause)  
Witness: You could always start by examining the body.  
Jones: AH! Great idea! (Lifts victim’s arm, lets it fall back to the table) Yup, she is pretty dead… And I further deduce from the large pool of blood that it was a very violent death!  
Witness: What blood?  
Jones: The blood she is laying in… All this thin, brown blood.  
Witness: Um, that’s coffee, not blood.  
Jones: Really?  
Witness: Yeah, see the coffee cup right there? And all the (pause for a moment, as if looking for a word, or some sanity) spilled coffee.  
Jones: Oh! Right. That makes more sense, I guess. And look! The victim’s name was Angle.  
Witness: Angle?  
Jones: Yeah, it is written right there on the coffee cup.  
Witness: And based solely on that you’re sure this woman's name is Angle?  
Jones (sounding lofty): It is the only logical conclusion.  
Witness: You’ve never ordered anything from a Starbucks, have you?  
Jones: No, my mom packs me a juicebox every day.  
Witness (sigh): That sounds about right. Well, then you’ll have to take my word, they never spell your name right on the cup.  
Jones: I dunno, seems like she could’ve been working an Angle.  
Witness (groan): I suppose so. And it looks like she was also a deadringer.  
Jones: What?  
Witness: Well her wedding ring, it is laying right next to that coffee cup.  
Jones: Ooo! It is! But I don’t see how that makes her a deadringer.  
Witness: It is a pun, you know because she lost her ring and she is dead…  
Jones: I still don’t get it. Besides she didn’t lose her wedding ring, she is still wearing it.  
Witness: Oh, you are right, she is! Do they match?  
Jones: Yeah, I think so. They’re both silver and look brand new. Oh and they’re both engraved with, “Forever and Always.”  
Witness: I guess forever wasn’t a very long time… You realize what having two rings here means?  
Jones: Um… Yes. Of course I do. But maybe you should tell me just so I know you know...  
Witness: It means there was another person here. The one who owns that second ring.  
Jones: Really? I don’t suppose you saw anyone else over here with her, did you?  
Witness: No, sorry. I don’t think so… I probably wouldn’t have even noticed her if someone who was covered in coffee hadn’t bumped into me. I was looking for the spill when I saw this woman slumped over.  
Jones: Maybe that was the killer! What did they look like?  
Witness: I don’t remember, they were walking pretty fast. But I do remember that they were clutching a large envelope like it contained secret Navy plans or something. It was a bit weird.  
Jones (sigh): Well, that can’t be important! Now I’m right back where I started.  
Witness (rolling eyes): Maybe her phone will tell you who she was meeting.  
Jones: Yeah! Great idea. But I don’t see her phone.  
Witness: Crazy idea, but maybe you should check her bag there next to the table.  
Jones: Brilliant! (opens bag) Let’s see… Half a dozen half-used chapsticks, a coupon to San Fran Pan, oooo, it says here that it is Northern California's best vegan, no carb, cheeseless pizza!  
Witness: So you are saying they serve a mean slice of cardboard.  
Jones: No! (pause) I don’t think cardboard is vegan. Doesn’t matter anyhow, the coupon is expired.  
Witness: Tragic.  
Jones: Mmm… And there’s also a betting slip in here. Looks like she was betting that Johnlock was going to become canon.  
Witness: Yeah, that’s a bet I think we all lost…  
Jones: Well, I don’t think we all had half a million dollars riding on it. But, at least she had a healthy breakfast this morning, though I don’t know why she decided to keep five of the orange seeds in here with the betting slip...  
Witness: I don’t think that’s-  
Jones:(interrupting): Here’s her phone! Oh, but it looks like the only messages she ever got were from a number listed as ‘work.’  
Witness: Maybe she was here on business. Open them up and see.  
Jones: Huh, looks like there’s one from yesterday afternoon. It says, “Just got it! Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, I miss you so much cuddlebutt! XOXO, kissing face emoji, heart emoji, heart emoji.” Wow! Her work is a lot more friendly than mine!  
Witness: Yeah, I somehow doubt those are from her work…  
Jones: I dunno, the next one is from a half an hour ago and it says, “Lobby, ten minutes. We need to talk.” That sounds a lot like my work.  
Witness: It also doesn’t sound very good.  
Jones: No, it never is when I get a message like that.  
Witness: Is her wallet in there? That’d at least tell us if she was local or if she was maybe staying at the hotel...  
Jones: It is, and, oh, it looks like I was wrong.  
Witness: Shocker.  
Jones: The victim’s name wasn’t Angle, it was Julia Stoner-Gibson, and she was here from California. There’s a plane ticket in here, too; looks like she just flew in last night.  
Witness: That might mean that her next of kin is here in the hotel.  
Jones: Yeah, I guess they’ll need to be notified… And it looks like the real police, er, I mean my colleagues, are here now just in time to do it. Phew.  
Witness: I am gonna go ahead and hang around to talk to them too.  
Jones: Okay, but, um… Would you mind not mentioning that I was here. I want them to be surprised when I solve the case!  
Witness: I am sure they would be surprised anyway, but yeah, I won’t tell them unless they ask.  
Jones: Thanks! And thanks for all your help. Um, don’t leave town.  
Witness: Why can’t I leave town?  
Jones: I dunno. It is what they say on all the cop shows.  
Witness (scoff): Yeah, well, good luck solving your case (stage whisper) You’re going to need it…

Dr Ernest stands near a sheet-covered pillow that we are going to pretend is body shaped. Jones stumbles in, knocking something over.

Ernest: Oh hey, Jones.  
Jones: How’d you know it was me, Dr Ernest?  
Ernest: You knocked the table over again, just like you do every time you visit me. That’s why I don’t keep any scalpels on it anymore.  
Jones: Oh, yeah. That really hurt coming out of my foot.  
Ernest: Yup, six stitches. I remember.  
Jones: You did a really good job too, it didn’t even scar.  
Ernest: Thanks, Jones. That’s nice to hear since you’ve been my only living patient for years. What brings you in today? Get lost on the way to the welcome desk again?  
Jones: Not this time. No, (striking a superhero pose again) I am here for your help!  
Ernest: Really? Do you need me to look at another mole? ‘Cause I told you, you need to stop falling asleep while you’re coloring with markers.  
Jones: How was I supposed to know it was from a marker?  
Ernest: Well, I mean, it was blue.  
Jones: I thought that meant it was cancerous.  
Ernest (opens mouth as if to argue, then just shakes head): Okay. So you need some more medical advice?  
Jones (proudly): Nope, I’m here on a case today!  
Ernest: Oh, did someone lose a hamster in the hospital again?  
Jones: No! Well, maybe. I dunno… But I’m here investigating the Stoner-Gibson murder.  
Ernest: God, really? I mean, that’s great! They finally moved you up to homicide.  
Jones: Well no, not yet, but I’m sure they will once I solve this case.  
Ernest: But if you weren’t assigned to the case, why are you here?  
Jones: I sorta happened to be on the scene when the murder happened.  
Ernest: How did you happen to be at the scene? Wasn’t it at the Hilton?  
Jones: Mother kicked me out of the house.  
Ernest (gently): Again?  
Jones: Yeah. But this time I think she might mean it. She has an ad up on craigslist for a new roommate, one who won’t play music at all hours of the night and talk for days on end. So I really need to solve this and impress her.  
Ernest (sighs): But, you don’t really have permission to be here, do you?  
Jones: Technically, no, but please, Dr Ernest. This is my ticket on to the homicide squad and I’ve been dreaming of that for years!  
Ernest: And you promise not to tell anyone.  
Jones: Of course not!  
Ernest: Okay.  
Jones: Thank you so much, Dr Ernest!  
Ernest: I’m only doing it because I happen to be waiting for the victim’s wife right now.  
Jones: Great! I have lots of questions!  
Ernest: No! You’re just going to observe, okay?  
Jones: Of course! ‘Quiet’ is my middle name. Well, no, ‘Thomas’ is, which is kinda a funny story.  
Ernest: That doesn’t bode well. (Looks up) But I think I hear someone coming now; guess it’s too late to worry.  
(enter Gibson)  
Ernest (reaching out to shake hands): Mrs Stoner-Gibson?  
Gibson (taking hand stiffly): Yes, though it is just Miss Gibson now.  
Ernest: Oh! Yes, I guess so. Sorry… Um, I’m Dr Ernest and this is Detective Jones. She’s, ah, working on your wife’s case.  
Gibson (bare nod to Jones): Charmed. Do you mind if we move this along, I’ve only just flown in and am quite busy.  
Jones: But your wife flew in yesterday.  
Gibson: Yes, she insisted she just had to be here last night, but I had to work.  
Jones: And what brings you to town?  
Gibson: Business, just like business brings me here now, right?  
Ernest: Oh, of course. Sorry. Um, if you’ll just step this way to identify the body, please. (They walk over to the sheet-covered pillow) You might want to brace yourself, it can be quite a shock seeing a loved one-  
Gibson: Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it.  
Ernest: Okay. (lifts sheet) Miss Gibson, is this your wife?  
Gibson: Yup, that’s Julia alright.  
Ernest: I’m so sorry for your loss.  
Gibson (shrugs): Eh, it is what it is.  
Jones: How was she killed?  
Ernest: Jones! That is hardly something to bring up in front of her widow!  
Gibson: Nah, it’s fine. Might be interesting to know. What was it? Aneurysm? Heart attack? Or did she just manage to annoy herself to death?  
Ernest: No. You know, it has only been a couple of hours since the death. We haven’t had time to start her autopsy or anything, but my preliminary conclusion is that it was poison, I am afraid.  
Gibson: Poison?  
Jones: Ah-ha! It was in the coffee, right? That’s why she spilled it everywhere!  
Ernest: No, it wasn’t ingested. There are some small cuts on the victim’s index finger and thumb that have traces of what I believe is the poison, but mostly I’m focusing on the thorn coated in the stuff and embedded there in the left side of her neck.  
Jones (reaching for the thorn): This one?  
Ernest and Gibson together: No!  
Gibson: Don’t touch that, you idiot! It is a poison dart from the Andaman Islands, the toxin on it could be fatal in seconds!  
Ernest: Really? How do you know that?  
Gibson: I know because I’m a world-renowned cultural anthropologist! The Andaman Islanders are well known for their two varieties of blow darts. This one is instantly fatal, which is interesting enough, but they also have one that causes near total paralysis, not unlike the zombie powders found in Haiti.  
Ernest: Wow! Really? Are you sure that this is the fatal one?  
Gibson (scornfully): I’ll remind you that I am the foremost expert in my field. I think I’d know.  
Ernest: Oh, of course, sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Thanks for letting me know, I’ll have the lab run a panel for more exotic poisons when we do get to the autopsy. In fact, here: we found these two bottles in your wife’s purse, one with a dart still in it.  
Gibson: My specimen bottles! She must have taken them from my office right before she left yesterday.  
Ernest: Why are there two bottles?  
Gibson: Well, they’re identical, as you can see. She must not have known which was which, or maybe she just meant to sell them both.  
Ernest: Are they very valuable?  
Gibson: To the right researcher or pharmaceutical company, yes! I had to spend several years with a tribe before I could procure a set of these darts. They are the only ones outside their native island.  
Ernest: Isn’t that interesting, Jones? Jones!  
Jones (looking up from the floor): What? Sorry, I was just thinking about how shiny these floors are.  
Ernest: Well, Miss Gibson here was just explaining how only she had access to these darts and-  
Gibson (rolling eyes): Should you really be explaining this to her right in front of me?  
Ernest: Oh. No, I guess I probably shouldn’t… Um, so if you could just take a look through the rest of the belongings we found near the body and tell us if any of them aren’t your wife’s.  
Gibson (after a cursory glance): Yeah, that’s all Julia’s junk. Well, except for those rings. I’ve never seen them before.  
Jones: But she was wearing one of them as a wedding ring when we found her!  
Gibson: Phift. That cheap silver thing? It doesn’t even have a stone! No, our wedding rings were platinum with matching three carat diamonds.  
Ernest: So, her wedding ring is missing?  
Gibson: No. It’s away somewhere being cleaned, or at least that’s what Julia told me last month. Guess now I’ll have to track down where.  
Ernest: Oh. Then whose ring was she wearing?  
Gibson: No idea. So, can I please just get a copy of the death certificate and get on my way? I need to meet with a lawyer.  
Jones: Wow, you’re already meeting with a lawyer? That’s quick.  
Gibson: Yeah, we were only in town because Julia’s Aunt Frances passed away. The lawyer is reading the will in about an hour.  
Ernest: Well, isn’t that narratively convenient…  
Gibson: Whatever. Can I get the death certificate or what?  
Ernest: Sure, but only if you’ll take Jones with you to the will reading.  
Gibson: Why would I do that?  
Jones: Yeah, why would she do that?  
Ernest: Well, it might be important that you be there… You know, so you can reach your dream.  
Jones: Huh? Oh, OH! Yes, I am afraid I must insist that I come with you, Miss Gibson. For official police reasons.  
Gibson: Fine, as long as we can leave right now. I have a cab waiting.  
Ernest: Of course. Jones, here is the certificate. I think you best hang on to it. (leans in close to stage whisper) Good luck.  
Jones: Thanks Dr Ernest! (then to Gibson) Let’s go.  
(Jones and Mr Gibson start to walk off)  
Jones: Hey, do you know how to play Yellow Car?

Jones and Gibson are seated in an awkward silence. Gibson is playing on her phone; Jones is just about vibrating in her seat.

Jones (excitedly): Oh, this is so exciting!  
Gibson: And you lose again.  
Jones: Oh, man. I guess I am just not very good at the quiet game.  
Gibson: That’s an understatement. I think your personal best is two minutes.  
Jones: Wanna play again? Best thirteen out of twenty-seven?  
Gibson (looking back down at her phone): Fine.  
(A few seconds later, Hosmer enters)  
Hosmer: Sorry to have kept you ladies waiting, I was unavoidably detained.  
Jones: You brought a cat! Is that a rule? Was I supposed to bring a cat too?  
Hosmer: Oh, no. This is a special case.  
Jones: Aww.. Who is a cute kitty? Who’s a pretty- Ouch!  
Hosmer: Yes, I wouldn’t recommend that you try to pet this cat, she’s still unhappy about the flight in yesterday. Um, should I have my secretary bring you a bandage?  
Jones: No, I am sure the bleeding will stop on its own. Probably.  
Hosmer: If you’re sure? I trust my secretary already offered you drinks.  
Jones: Yeah, he did! And I asked for a coffee black with two sugars, just like the real detectives drink!  
Gibson: And for the good of humanity I stopped him from bringing her one. She’s bad enough without the caffeine.  
Jones: That’s what Mother says too…  
Gibson: Your secretary was also unable to provide me with a dry martini. Let’s move this along so I can go somewhere that can.  
Hosmer: Fair enough. So, again, welcome to the law offices of Arthur, Conan, and Doyle. I am Angel Hosmer. (holding hand out) Miss Stoner-Gibson I presume? (shakes hand and turns to Jones) And you are?  
Jones: Detective Jones of the Police!  
Hosmer: Ah, I see… Well, I am sorry, Detective Jones, but this is a confidential meeting. If you plan to stay, I am going to need to see your identification.  
Jones: Of course, I have it right here!  
Hosmer: This says you are an honorary junior detective and member of the Scooby Doo fan club.  
Jones: Oh, sorry. Wrong one. Here!  
Hosmer: This says you are a certified female body inspector.  
Jones: Oh, well, that’s true too, but I know I have the right ID here somewhere.  
Gibson: For the love of god. We could be here all day with this. Just take my word that this idiot is with the police and let’s get to the point.  
Hosmer: I am sorry Mrs Stoner-Gibson, but I am afraid that we are going to have to wait for your wife to arrive before we continue, anyway. After all, she is the next of kin.  
Gibson: Well, then we are going to waiting a long time because Julia is dead.  
Hosmer (looking shocked): What? But how?! I just saw(changes word halfway through)spoke to her a couple hours ago!  
Gibson: And right after that, she was murdered. I have the death certificate right here, and as the next of kin’s next of kin, I demand you get started reading that will.  
Hosmer (still looking shocked): I… but… (shock turning to anger) Fine. As you wish. (picking up envelope from desk) I have it right here.  
Jones: Huh. Isn’t that envelope supposed to be sealed? That’s how it’s done in the movies…  
Hosmer: Normally, yes. But as you can see, I spilled coffee on it and needed to check to make sure the document was okay.  
Gibson: I don’t care, just get on with it.  
Hosmer (with a tight smile): Whatever you say. “I, Lady Frances Carfax, being of sound mind and body, do here inscript the terms of my last will and testament. I entrust my lawyer, Angel Hosmer, to oversee the deposition of my vast fortune in accordance with the wishes I hereby outline. The bulk of said money, minus a small entailment to my caretakers Mrs and Mr Rogers, I leave to to my favorite niece, Helen Stoner…”  
Gibson: What! That can’t be!  
Jones: Ooo! Who’s Helen Stoner?  
Gibson: Helen was my wife’s twin sister, but she died in the deepest jungles of South America years ago!  
Hosmer: And yet she has been named as the sole beneficiary. Julia wasn’t to inherit a cent.  
Gibson: No, she still does. Because Helen is dead, her claim to the fortune reverts back to Julia and then to me, clearly.  
Hosmer: You might be right, Miss Gibson, except that the will goes on to say “...and should Helen be unable to assume control, then my entire estate shall pass to my longtime companion, Mrs Snugglebottoms.”  
Jones: She had a friend named Mrs Snugglebottoms?! That’s awesome! Shouldn’t she be here for the will reading too?  
Hosmer: She is.  
Gibson: God, you don’t mean…  
Hosmer: Yes, I do. This cat is Mrs Snugglebottoms. And Lady Carfax’s fortune is to be held in trust for her and her offspring by my office, specifically by me.  
Gibson: You mean, you’re going to get it all?  
Hosmer: Well, only to use to the benefit of Mrs Snugglebottoms. And right now she agrees that we should use it to buy a yacht and sail around the world.  
Jones: That doesn’t seem like something a cat would really want.  
Hosmer: And yet, as her trustee, I assure you it is.  
Gibson: No! That money is mine! I earned it!  
Hosmer: No, Miss Gibson, it never would have been yours.  
Gibson: You are wrong. I am going to go get my lawyers on the phone right now. You’ll be hearing from them shortly!  
Hosmer: I’ll be looking forward to it. Now get out of my office!  
(Gibson storms out)  
Jones: So, that’s it? Julia was never going to get any money and was murdered anyway.  
Hosmer: Looks like it.  
Jones: And instead you are now super rich.  
Hosmer: Yup.  
Jones: Say, aren’t we related? ‘Cause I am pretty sure you were always my favorite… er.. second cousin.  
(Mysterious person walks in)  
Helen: Not so fast! I believe I am the person you should be trying to suck up to.  
Hosmer: Julia! You’re alive!  
Helen: No, I’m not Julia; I’m her twin sister Helen Stoner.  
Hosmer: But you are supposed to be dead somewhere in South America!  
Helen: Phift. I went to South Africa to study for a year. When I got back I never bothered to contact anyone in the family again. Julia just assumed I was dead because she couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to spend more time basking in her brilliance.  
Hosmer: That does sound like her.  
Helen: Yeah, well I was just lucky the medical examiner, Dr Ernest, was smart enough to search for any other relatives, and I happened to already be here for the Con. She told me to say hi to you by the way, Detective Jones.  
Jones: How’d you know I’m Jones?  
Helen: She said you’d be the one looking confused.  
Hosmer: But wait a minute, you were at the Con where Julia was killed? That makes you a suspect! Therefore, you can’t inherit anything until your name has been cleared.  
Helen: And neither can you.  
(both turn on Jones)  
Hosmer: So, Detective Jones. Who is the murderer?  
Helen: Yes, tell us, who killed my sister?  
Jones (looking panicked): Oh, god. I don’t- That is- Um. (turns to audience) Help me! Who is the killer?  
(Hopefully the audience starts shouting out answers)  
Jones: Of course, it was the wife! It’s always the wife. By applause who agrees that it’s the wife? (pause for applause)  
Gibson: It wasn’t me!  
Jones: But you had access to the weapon and stood to inherit millions!  
Gibson: Yeah, but I was also on a plane when the murder happened.  
Jones: Oh, I guess you have a point there. Then it had to be the lawyer! (to audience) Am I right? (pause for applause)  
Hosmer: You’re wrong though.  
Jones: But we know you were at the scene! The coffee cup proves it; so do the coffee stains on the will.  
Hosmer: Oh, you’re right, I did have coffee that morning with Julia, we had been lovers for months, ever since I became her Aunt’s lawyer. After she inherited, we were going to use the dart to ‘take care of’ her asshat wife, and we were going to elope. But after I read the will last night I knew that I didn’t need to continue that sham to get the money; it was going to come to me anyway. So I met with her to break it off this morning.  
Jones: Wow, that’s cold. And it explains why we found both rings there, I guess.  
Hosmer: Yeah, I gave it back to her right before she threw the coffee in my face.  
Jones: And then you killed her!  
Hosmer: No, I didn’t. Why would I? The money was already mine, what was she going to do about it? I just had to leave her, which I did, and take care of Mrs Snugglebottoms, and I was set for life.  
Jones: Dang it! Well, then, I guess it is time to address the elephant in the room: the mysterious twin!  
Helen: Me?!  
Jones: Yes, you! You killed your twin for the money!  
Helen: Jones, it’s never twins. Besides, I was getting all the money anyway.  
Jones: You didn’t know that!  
Helen: Yeah, I also didn’t know that Aunt Frances was dead!  
Jones: You can’t prove that you didn’t know that.  
Helen: Yeah, but I can prove that I didn’t have any access to the murder weapon! Where would I have gotten an Andaman Island dart like the one Dr Ernest told me she was killed by?  
Jones: Well, er, that is actually a good point. But then, who’s the murderer?  
Helen: Elementary, my dear Jones: Julia killed herself.  
Jones and Hosmer: What!?  
Helen: Yes. Think about it. She was deeply in debt because of her gambling troubles and had been marked for death because of it.  
Jones: How do you know that?  
Helen: The five orange pips you found in with her betting slip, obviously. Plus, her girlfriend had just broken up with her after telling her that she wasn't getting any of the money she needed, and she was married to an asshat. She had the darts right on her, it must have seemed like the only option.  
Jones: That is sad.  
Helen: Yeah, I wish now that I’d been there for her.  
(sad pause)  
Hosmer: Well, guess that wraps everything up. Guess I’ll go and start the paperwork to get you your money, Miss Stoner. And can I say that I’m looking forward to personally handling all the future law needs of such a lovely lady…  
Helen: Can it, you snake. Just as soon as the probate clears I am not only taking my business to a better firm, the first thing I am going to have them do is file charges against you for breach of trust and exploitation! Now get out of my sight.  
Hosmer: Fine. Guess I’ll be seeing you in court.  
Helen: And good riddance.  
Jones: Well, I guess that wraps up everything…  
Helen: Yeah, guess it does. Why do you sound so sad?  
Jones: Well, I didn’t get to arrest anyone. Now I’ll never get my promotion.  
(mystery person enters)  
Julia: Is this Angel’s office? I’m Helen Stoner, and I’m here for the will reading…  
Helen: Julia!  
Julia: Helen!  
Both: You’re alive!!!  
Jones: Wow! I didn’t see that coming! I wish I’d brought some popcorn.  
Julia: But how? You died in South America.  
Helen: It was Africa, you self-absorbed idiot! And I didn’t die, I just didn’t want to ever talk to you again. I can’t believe you were going to steal my identity!  
Julia: You were dead, what would you have cared?  
Helen: It’s just wrong, Julia!  
Julia: Yeah, and I would have gotten away with it too if it weren’t for you going and turning up alive.  
Helen: Sorry to disappoint. Cuff her, Jones!  
Jones: Er… But I don’t have any cuffs.  
Helen (sighing): Here, use mine.  
Jones: You happen to have a pair of cuffs on you?  
Helen (shrugs): I know what I like.  
Jones: These are fluffy and bright pink!  
Helen: So?  
Jones: So… what are you doing after this? Wanna get a drink or something?  
Julia: God, just take me away already!  
Jones: Oh, right. Of course! Thanks everyone for all the help, I couldn’t have solved this without you. Promotion, here I come!  
Helen: You're welcome. Hope your new job works out.  
Jones: Thanks! Come on, Julia. Oh, hey! Do you know how to play yellow car?


End file.
